


Night Changes

by Meowser_Clancy



Category: Party of Five - Fandom
Genre: Awkward confessions of love, F/M, otp, party of five
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: Because life is never that easy. And Sarah and Bailey each have some thinking to do. Tag to 2x3: Dearly Beloved.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostwhispererfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwhispererfangirl/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I've been promising ghostwhispererfangirl a birthday present fic for days now and lol, this isn't it. But hey, it's Party of Five and I'm out of my comfort zone and wow, lol. Enjoy.

Tag to 2x3: Dearly Beloved

* * *

She'd said she loved him.

Bailey hadn't heard those words from a girl since Jill. Since Kate, before her.

And any memory he had of either of those two was still tainted with pain. Regret. Grief.

God.

Bailey moved from the party, seeing as Kirsten and Charlie danced together, Claudia close by. Julia had disappeared; Griffin was gone too.

His heart hurt for Justin, but at the same time, his head was spinning too hard and too much and too fast for him to really process anything properly.

Sarah had said she loved him. Little Sarah.

He didn't know much about her, truth be told. She worked in the restaurant; she was fun, cute, little.

He admitted to liking shorter girls.

Shorter girls with killer legs.

He blinked, realizing that he'd never thought about her in this way before. Suddenly a memory of her came to mind, her lying on his bed, laughing at one of his stupid stories about the shirt he got on his birthday every year, the one he and Will traded back and forth.

He remembered her walking through the hallway next him, rushing up to him, always excited to see him, always quick to walk with him.

He didn't like her like that.

Which was weird, because if he'd met her last year, before Kate, before Jill...she would have been just his type. Perky, happy, a little awkward.

Gorgeous.

He paused, one hand on the bannister going upstairs.

Was she gorgeous?

More importantly, did he find her gorgeous?

Because she had nice hair. There was no denying that. And Bailey was still very much a teenage boy, and physical things he noticed very quickly, and very easily.

She had soft curves, ones that he realized he never really saw. She was always in baggy sweaters, loose dresses; dresses covered with boxy jackets.

He really had no idea what she looked like underneath them, but a memory of her in the Salinger's uniform came to mind; the white shirt tucked into the black skirt.

She had a figure, to be sure. Her waist had been tiny, and the curves above and beneath…

How had he not noticed her like that at the time?

He felt a little dizzy, remembering an enthusiastic hug she'd once given him. Soft body pressing against him, he'd been too lost in himself, in his mind, in the dark recesses that still only remembered pain and horror when contemplating love, he'd dismissed it, hadn't even noticed it.

Her beauty and the fact that she was a damn pretty girl had been lost on him.

He was upstairs, he was by the phone.

She was in love with him.

What did this mean for them?

* * *

Sarah walked home in the dark, clutching her arms around herself. This night was dark. It was going to be so long, she could already tell.

She was always lonely; had never felt like she belonged, and for so many moments this past summer, she'd felt like she was a part of the Salinger family. She'd been hired at the restaurant; almost all the kids were working there for the summer, giving the place an infectious atmosphere.

She'd just wanted to earn some extra money for a better back to school wardrobe; she was tired of being the one girl who didn't dress like everyone else, whose clothes were two years old.

And Salinger's had turned out to be so much more. It was like home. It became home.

Bailey had become home. She'd come in to work everyday, never expecting much. And Bailey was almost always there, laughing and joking around, friends with every person there, so affable and easy to talk to.

She'd never found a guy easy to talk to before.

And now she was talking with him, laughing with him; they had these silly conversations and encounters every day, and then he was giving her rides home.

She'd started to think it meant something.

Poor, stupid Sarah.

She'd started to think it meant something.

Why did she always do this to herself? When she knew that it would never happen for her. When she knew that happiness, that normalcy, that someone finding her attractive, was pretty much an impossible feat.

Some guys found her pretty, sure. But they quickly labeled her too clingy, too anxious; she talked too much, she laughed too long. She was too eager.

Bailey hadn't minded though. Either hadn't noticed, or it hadn't bothered him.

Maybe he'd even found it appealing.

In a strictly platonic way, that is. He obviously didn't find her appealing enough to be more.

Of course not.

She was just a puppy, following around her master; she'd imprinted on the wrong guy.

She always imprinted on the wrong guy. Always clung too hard to things that never clung to her back.

So why did it hurt this much, every single time? Why was it always like a punch in the gut to see people looking at her like Bailey had, so lost, so confused as to how she could have misread him, so clueless to the effect he'd had on her.

Which meant that it was her fault. It was always her fault. She'd misread everything, all his gestures, all the touching, all the laughter and stupid conversations that had this unexpected way of turning deep.

He'd talked to her, really talked to her sometimes. She'd really thought it meant something.

She'd been wrong. She was always wrong.

It had begun to rain; of course it was raining. She started to jog, her feet slapping on the pavement.

She had to think of what she was going to tell him. Anything to say to detract from the fact that she'd told him she'd loved him. Anything to lessen the impact.

She finally saw her doorstep, finally reached it, finally got out of the rain, pressing herself against the door and digging around for her key.

She was almost inside, the door was open and she shut it behind her, breathing in and out, heart beating like a drum.

She wondered if she'd ever sleep tonight. She knew it would be interrupted by crazy dreams, ones where her telling Bailey was made even worse by...clowns.

Her brain didn't make sense to her sometimes. She always had nightmares when she was stressed.

She paused, one hand on the bannister, already going up the stairs.

That was it. She'd tell him she'd dreamed it. He'd know she was lying, but he'd also know that she didn't want to talk about it, that she was putting a lid on it, pretending that it hadn't happened.

She breathed out, sagging against the wall, letting her legs give out and sinking to sit on the stairs.

Maybe she'd get through this thing after all.


End file.
